


Terror and Salvation

by feroxa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotions, Fuck This, M/M, PWP, Some angst, basically an excuse to write porn, how do I tag things, one of them is drunk the fucking end, there is porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feroxa/pseuds/feroxa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After re-associating himself with his identity Bucky deals with the guilt left from the pain he caused Steve. Steve will have none of this and shows Bucky how much he means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terror and Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> Oh shit so this is like the first time i've ever written fanfiction for this fandom and the first time i've ever posted fanfiction ever im freaking out. also the first time i've written porn. i'm fucking insane. I'm going to leave this here before i loose the nerve.

Terror he was used to. Terror he lived with for years, centuries. The tightness in his chest, the catch of his breathes, trembling, and wanting to scream but no sound coming out. He could remember fragments, too distorted yet too vivid at the same time. Blood on his hands, fear in his eyes when he started to remember. Terror at what he’d done, terror at what they were going to do to him. He wasn’t touched, he wasn’t talked to, and for centuries all he felt was ice and pain. And then there was Steve. He had just been a target, just been flesh and blood a bullet or a knife the end. But The Winter Soldier hesitated, Bucky screaming in his mind. The Winter Soldier didn’t know his own name, didn’t know his past, but he knew Steve. Bucky knew Steve, and Steve knew him. He couldn’t kill this man; he was the first person in a long time he couldn’t kill. He was an exception; he was a touch, a word, which Bucky hadn’t experienced in too long. He was terrified again by his own emotions, and even more by this man’s sacrifice. If he couldn’t kill him, he couldn’t let him die, so he didn’t.

            The next time they met The Winter Soldier, Bucky, couldn’t speak. He was in too much pain, too much confusion to even try to make words. Who was he? Was he a machine? A soldier? A man? A friend? Shaking hands, one metal and one flesh, reached towards the frozen man before him. Steve looked unbelieving, tired like he hadn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. Bucky knew the feeling. He needed to touch, to see if this was real, if this time Steve was actually before him. Too many times in the past it was only an illusion, his rescue just a façade. Bucky shook his head to clear his jumbled thoughts. Hatred, confusion, love, violence, and terror circled around his mind. Flesh tentatively ghosted over Steve’s cheek, until he rested his hand there. Slowly, not to disturb the fragile man before him, Steve rested his hand on top of Bucky’s and leaned into his touch. It was too intimate, too warm, and Bucky thought he might explode.

            “St-“ His voice was so gravely, unused for kind words for too long. Bucky cleared his throat, and tried again, trying to keep his emotions out of his voice. “Steve?” Almost as if something broke, Steve was all around him, holding him in a crushing embrace. Bucky went rigid, then softened to his touch. He kept his metal arm limp but tentatively put his flesh hand on Steve’s back. He didn’t mean to break, didn’t mean for it to go this way, but before he knew it he was sobbing into Steve’s shoulder. They stayed there as long as they could, as long as possible. Bucky shook and stuttered through his surrender, while Steve had a hand on his shoulder.

            Weeks and a lot of therapy later Bucky was staying with Steve. There was no one else he could trust, no one else that would send The Winter Soldier away with a smile, and no one else he would rather be with. There were good days with cocky grins and sarcastic flirting, and there were bad days full of terror and sobbing and self-deprecation. Then there were nights. Neither of them could sleep most of the time, so they stayed up talking about memories and Brooklyn. If they could sleep Bucky almost always ended up in Steve’s bed, holding onto Steve’s warmth like it was all that was keeping him sane, and he would fall asleep with his face in Steve’s neck, breathing in the scent of the man he dared to love, just like when they were kids seventy years ago. Just like when Bucky was only Bucky and Steve was small and sickly. He tried to block out the guilt but it came anyways.

            Tonight Bucky was awake and wishing he wasn’t. He wanted to get drunk, he wanted to have sex, and he wanted to make shitty decisions that would kick his ass later on because he deserved it. He raided Steve’s kitchen, looking for any alcohol at all. He half expected there to be nothing there, because Steve had expressed he couldn’t get drunk. Bucky briefly wondered if that would be true for him too but decided it didn’t hurt to try. Finally he found some wine, for cooking he guessed, which kind of sucked. Next he found some vodka, which was incredibly surprising, and very Russian of Steve, maybe it was a gift. There was some shit to mix it with; even Captain America had to host some parties he guessed.

            The burn and dullness of intoxication made him smile. He thought of the times he used to go out with Steve, on the rare occasions when they could scrape enough cash together to get as drunk as they could. Steve would pick a fight with some asshole, Bucky would have to pull him out and down the other guy, and then they would limp home laughing and mock fighting. Bucky always thought he couldn’t be even more in love with the punk than he was in those moments, but boy was he wrong. Bucky hung his head and his separation from Steve, even though he was only a room away, physically hurt him. He didn’t deserve that kid; back when he was skinny and sick and even more now. He fought the feeling to go see Steve for a moment, considered his dangerous mood and desire for human contact, but then thought about Steve’s smile and warm eyes and his rational side was beat. He stood up too fast, and swayed on his feet a bit, metal arm catching the tabletop before he fell. He ran his flesh hand through his hair; now short as it was when they were back in Brooklyn. He stepped towards Steve’s room, footsteps as quiet as the assassin he’s trying to forget being. He pushed on the door, and closed it quietly behind him. The room was dark and Steve was sleeping in the bed, Bucky could see the outline of his body. Bucky stumbled towards the bed, landing on his hands with a soft thud. He got onto his knees and worked the covers off of the side of the bed Steve wasn’t on. He got under the sheets and put his body flush to Steve’s back, humming at the warmth and comfort that welcomed him.

            “Mmm, Bucky?” Steve asked, all sleepy and hoarse and Bucky wanted to kiss him. Bucky was drunk, and his face was buried in Steve’s neck, so he did. Little butterfly kisses that made Steve shiver. “Bucky? What?”

            “Shush Steve, I’ll take care of you.” He meant it. God did he mean it. He turned Steve over so they were face to face. Steve’s eyes were wild and confused but darker than usual. Bucky didn’t care he kissed him anyways, his mouth was soft and sweet like Bucky couldn’t imagine. Steve kissed him back all needy and hot without thinking at all. He could taste the alcohol on Bucky’s mouth and tongue and pulled away with much difficulty. Bucky whined and nuzzled into Steve’s throat and began licking at the sensitive skin there, loving the way Steve shuddered.

            “Bucky, Bucky you’re drunk.” Steve tried to sound serious and unaffected by Bucky’s absolutely sinful mouth sucking at his sensitive neck.

            “That I am Stevie.” Bucky laughs and tilts his head up to catch Steve’s lips again. He bit at Steve’s bottom lip to keep Steve from talking and he fucking moaned like a dame on TV. Bucky wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, wanted to fuck Steve so hard all he could do was moan like that. Steve pulled away again and Bucky thought he might slap him; he could be such a damn punk sometimes.

            “Bucky why?” He looked down at the red-lipped heavy lidded heathen next to him and swallowed. Bucky was doing things to Steve that Best Friends shouldn’t do, and judging by his smirk he knew all about it. “Bucky why are you doing this?”

            “Can’t we just say you’re hot and I’m horny?” Bucky’s voice was deep and he was honest to god batting his eyelashes at Steve.

            “No we absolutely cannot.” The way Bucky’s eyes changed was dangerous, because suddenly the pain Steve knew was there was obvious.

            “Because I’ve caused you so much pain and all you’ve ever done was saved me. Jesus Steve you’re so fucking good, and all the shit I’ve done-“

            “Bucky.” Steve says softly but Bucky ignored him.

            “I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve a friend like you.” His voice cracked on friend and he hung his head to hide from Steve. “I’m tarnished and I’m not worth anything, I should be dead. I should have died when I fell I should have-“ Suddenly Steve is on top of him, kissing him quiet hard enough to bruise and just as passionate.

            “No, no you shut up Bucky Barnes, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bucky is about to argue but Steve’s looking at him like that’s the worst idea imaginable. He’s kissing Bucky again; sweet like honey and so very tender it seems like Steve’s suddenly scared to break him. Bucky grinds up into Steve and swears he hears him growl. Now he’s on his neck, sucking and licking like a fucking tease. His hands are under Bucky’s shirt and roaming all over, then he’s pulling Bucky up to strip him of his shirt and bite down next to his collar bone, sucking to leave a mark and Bucky feels like a virgin the way he’s panting and grinding to get a little friction but Steve’s taking his goddam sweet time on his neck.

            “You-“ Steve’s looking over him and he knows he looks flushed and needy and wrecked and so hard but this is the first time anyone has touched him in seventy years so he feels like he’s got a bit of leeway to act like a teenager, also he’s more than a little drunk so he’s pretty fucking proud of himself. “You are _beautiful_ Bucky Barnes, fuck you are beautiful. You are my beast friend and you are beautiful.”

            “People don’t usually do _this_ with their best friends.” Bucky says because he’s an asshole and he can’t help it.

            “Well I’m starting to think they should, it’s amazing.” And _oh_ that shuts Bucky up good. Steve shove’s him down and kisses him heatedly before trailing down and exploring every inch of his chest with his mouth and Bucky wonders if he’s died and gone to heaven. Steve is an angel. Bucky runs his flesh hand over Steve’s neck and shoulders and hair and just being touched feels so, so good. Then Steve’s kissing his lips and sucking on his fingertips, which officially kills Bucky because Steve’s mouth is hot and wet and lovely. Then, Steve looks over at Bucky’s metal arm, the one Bucky is careful to never touch him with. Steve takes Bucky’s hand, it’s cool in his, and brings it to his face. He kisses his palm and fingers, all the while not breaking eye contact with Bucky. Bucky looks enchanted, watching as Steve kisses the part of himself he hates most. Steve’s smile is small and content.

            “I love you, Bucky. I love every piece of you.” Steve whispers, all honesty and awe. Bucky believes him. Doesn’t doubt him, trusts him completely. Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s cheek, which he leans into unabashed. Then Steve’s kissing his stomach and making his muscles twitch and his heart flutter. Bucky knows what he’s doing, knows where this is going and it only serves to make him harder than he already is. Steve is looking him in the eyes and unzipping his pants, and Bucky thinks Steve actually may be a demon instead of an angel, and he’s perfectly okay with that. Steve nods at him and Bucky nods back, then his pants are being pushed to his knees followed closely by his boxers. Steve’s looking at him like this is all he’s ever wanted and licks his lips.

            “ _Fuck_ Bucky you’re so beautiful.” Bucky whines and believes him. Bucky would believe anything Steve said to him right now. Anything at all. Slowly Steve lowers his head to kiss at Bucky’s thighs and leave some marks to remember him by. Bucky doesn’t need them; he won’t forget this for a long time. Then Steve’s licking at his head and swirling his tongue in a simply delicious way. He’s a bit sloppy but so earnest and eager Bucky’s moaning like a slut in no time.

            “ _Fuck, Steve_ \- Jesus fucking Christ.” He’s running his mouth and cursing in a way that’s so wholly him Steve’s smiling around his cock. Steve goes down as much as he can and hums so Bucky lets out a shuttering stuttering noise that goes strait to Steve’s cock.

            “Steve I’m, I’m-” Steve knows what he’s going to say and looks straight into his eyes. Bucky’s propped up on his elbows and is panting like he’s been running for his life, their eyes meet and Steve opens his mouth so Bucky can see himself on Steve’s tongue. Bucky groans and comes; Steve sucks all of it up, and loving the salty bitter taste of Bucky. Then Bucky’s pulling Steve up for a kiss and Steve knows Bucky can taste himself on Steve’s tongue and tries to stifle a moan at the thought. Bucky’s smiling and riding his afterglow, lazily moving his right hand down Steve’s stomach but bracing the small of Steve’s back with his metal one. Then he’s tugging down Steve’s boxers and has a hand around his cock. Steve’s got his arms around Bucky’s shoulder, face so close he can feel his pants and moans on his ear and it’s sending shivers down his spine. Bucky’s just working him like he’s got all the time in the world, and Steve’s back is arching and he sounds like he’s teetering on the edge, dignity lost to lust.

            “I- _ahhh_ I fucking love you, I love you, I love you-“ He’s repeating those words like a mantra in Bucky’s ear and Bucky bites down on Steve’s neck and Steve is hissing and moaning and stuttering and coming. They sit there, Bucky’s hand covered in Steve’s come, both of them panting and smiling like idiots. Bucky moves slowly, aligning his forehead to Steve’s, looking him in the eyes.

            “I love you too.”

            They eventually lay down, as close together as possible. They know the world is a harsh, terrifying place, but the tightness in Bucky’s chest isn’t from fear, and he feels like for the first time in years he’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> *screaming in the distance* thanks for reading this train-wreck yo


End file.
